My screen is lit up with notifications. My voicemail box is full. My mother is flipping out. Amelia is flipping out. Dad even texted me and called me and my father hates “those fuckin’ things” (aka, smartphones).
My parents are recently separated so for him to message me – he has a clue as to what’s going on and that means they’ve all got to be afraid. This makes me feel awful.
I’ve even heard from Bucket-List Megan. I scroll by that one with an eye roll, the preview screen showing she knows I got bit by a snake because she starts off with OMG and o-faces as well as snake emojis. Screw her. Who does that?
I scan through the rest of the notification previews and open the latest one from Becks, my boss, and it has a link to our local newspaper with information about the fire. The electrical fire set the whole block up in flames. It started in our store and the damage was extensive. We’re talking months, at least. I’m getting paid for the next month and from there, we’ll be updated on the status. I could be laid off or transferred to another store.
Well.
Okay then.
No rush to get back to civilization.
Hm.
Except for my freaking out family.
Mom is losing her ever-loving mind on my voicemail and all-capsing me in texts. Amelia, too, with four texts that all say
IVY! CALL ME
I knew this was how I’d feel when I turned on my phone – overwhelmed – which is why I’ve avoided it.
Ty is sleeping, catching an afternoon nap after a lot of eating, his run, and a whole lot of sexing. I figure now is probably the best time for this, so I’ve crept out of the bedroom in one of his shirts. All my panties are dirty. I officially need to do laundry.
I call Mom first.
Amelia answers.
“OhmygodwhathefuckIvywhatthefuck!”
“Oh. Ames?”
“Thank fuck!”
“Uh, hi.”
Shit. I did not want to talk to Amelia. I wanted to talk to Mom and then let her talk to Amelia for me. Fuzz.
“Are you okay? Are you okay? What the fuck?”
“I’m okay.”
“Shit. Shit. Okay, breathe, Amelia. Breathe.”
My sister often talks to herself. She’s hyperventilating.
“Breathe, Amelia,” I tell her even though that’s what she just told herself.
“Thank God. Thank God! Tell me what happened.”
“Ugh. Okay, so I went away for a weekend with a girl from work, Megan, and the wicked wench screwed me over, so I decided to head home.”
“You left her there, she said. How could you do that?”
“Believe me, it was warranted. When did you talk to her?”
“Mom and me have been losing our minds trying to track you down since your voicemail on Sunday about the snake bite. Mom’s even been talking to him on the phone.”
She means Dad. She always calls him ‘Him’. Well, she has since he broke Mom’s heart a few months ago.
“How could you not call us back, Ivy? None of the hospitals had a record of you, so I called your work and tracked down your manager who got me Megan’s number, saying that she talked to you and knew you’d gone away for the weekend with Megan but that you’d gotten separated somehow and you were bit by a snake during that time and she didn’t have any more info so I wanted to ask Megan questions and give her info to the cops in case it’d help with the search and where have you been since you called Mom?”
Ugh. So much for her stopping to breathe. My sister was nothing if not resourceful.
“It’s a long story, Amelia, and frankly, I’m exhausted, so can we talk about it later? I just wanted to tell you guys I’m good, and –”
“Uh, no. We can’t talk about it later. She said you left and that she hadn’t heard anything. I told her you said something went wrong with your car on Mom’s voicemail and that you got bit by a snake and were in a hospital but that we hadn’t heard from you. She felt so bad about it but said it was you that left. Why on earth did you leave?”
“She was bangin’ two guys and left me alone with three others. It was sketch-ville there, Ames. I told her I didn’t wanna stay and she pretty much told me to take a flying leap. So I did.”
Into the clutches of a werewolf.
A sexy, dominating, fuckable werewolf. I feel flutters in between my legs, in my nipples, and a sensation trills up my spine as the mark he made on my neck gets all tingly, too.
Just like Amelia, though, to assume that I made the mistake, not Megan who she never met. Grr.
“That was Sunday. This is Tuesday here, Ivy. We put in a missing persons’ report last night. Where are you? Shit: we better call the cops and cancel it.”